


Not Like the Other

by ThatSoChangeableChick



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Feel Free To Read, Gen, Just Learning Bruce's Voice in This One, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 03:09:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10688559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatSoChangeableChick/pseuds/ThatSoChangeableChick
Summary: Jason doesn't react as Dick did to High-Society Gala's.Oddly, enough.





	Not Like the Other

He noted how his newest ward faltered with high-society social lifestyle. It wasn't any cause for concern, Dick also had trouble with it in the beginning, understanding how this audience interacted with how he performed or hid in public. Dick had experience with multiple demographics from his shows, and Dick was more of a social-bug, at peace at the center of attention and no out of focus for it.

Jason wasn't like that.

It had been nearly four months since Jason had liberated his tires, hit him with a crowbar and bolted into the alleys. It'd been three since Bruce had officially adopted Jason. And he was no more comfortable in high society lifestyle.

Not that Bruce was all that comfortable. Appearances had to be met so that work could continue. But Bruce knew how to hide his uncomfortableness, knew how to mask it, knew how to focus on different particulars to make the socialite parties work for him.

Jason had yet to master that.

Watching Jason, tailored suit skewed and skittishly observed prestigiously dressed huddles, while trying to remain casual, leaned back against a roman white pillar, semi-concealed by an antique vase and its huge leaves, was difficult at this point.

It would've worked best if Jason found a personal route to handle the high-socialite crowd but after settling on skittish, unquestionably false bravado he'd grounded to a halt. He had first been excited, chattered and jabbered, energetic and alive, and Bruce had worried that his heart was on the line but hadn't stepped in.

Paranoia didn't define it to be true. And while the world believed there was nothing more important to Bruce Wayne than a party, he would either attend or host, that wasn't to be said of their actual lives. That wasn't to be said about what really mattered. Basically, this lifestyle was small in comparison to what they did.

He hadn't expected it to effect Jason as it did.

From one social to the next it was simple to construct what'd happened. Either a blend of gossip, solidified from news sites, implied happenstances and overhead whispers, and Bruce also suspected the kids at Jason's new school, were partly at fault.

About three weeks back, there'd been a fundraiser for the Children's Ward of the Elliot Memorial Hospital. Barely through the first round of appetizers and Jason's strained excitement had disappeared, replaced by self-conscious like-me smiles and defensively bent shoulders.

His excitement, twinkle-eyed fascination dimmed and well, a sense of alienation permitted each step after that. He tried to speak with Jason about it, but he'd only retreated further into his shoulders, threw out a toothy grin and scoffed at how he'd handle it. And Jason had attempted to handle it.

Before his son retreated into his shoulders again.

He would've left it at that. Over the years, with Dick and now with Jason, he allowed them to work it for their own. But he'd come to learn, Jason wasn't anything like Dick. Different tactics should be deployed for optimal satisfaction.

Though Bruce couldn't declare he hadn't made mistakes. In the past three months, his and Dick's longest conversation had been about an operation interlocking through Gotham and Blüdhaven. That wasn't how he'd wanted their lives to proceed, two divergent paths who shouted back communications from their separate lines.

Except he didn't fully know how to fix what'd broken there. In his darkest hours, he knows he forced Dick to a different city, that in all of what'd happened, he'd been scared to lose Dick.

In his better moments, he likes to believe they'll reconnect, that Dick will understand how much he means to Bruce. He left adult adoption papers in his first desk drawer and swore to himself, he'd present them to Dick, if he wants, next time they're amicable.

He would never presume to replace Dick's parents. But he doesn't know how else to showcase the terrified, swooped vortex in his chest and the tender, warm bellied pride whenever he thinks of Dick.

In the blink of an eye, he is no longer a trust-fund playboy or a darkened knight; he is a father. And that is more terrifying than all the lowest odds in the world. He can only hope he'll live up to his own father's example, be a father his own could be proud of to call son.

He wanted better for Jason. To not feel alienated in his home, amongst his classmates, amongst those who don't take into consideration his golden heart. In their Robin Training Regime, he'd tried to include how others do not dictate the situation or circumstance, but it hadn't melted into Jason's personal life.

Yet.

He had full faith in Jason to find that knowledge.

He has a diluted champagne flute in a hand and two layered slices of Alfred's peppermint brownies, stolen from the kitchen, in the other. Jason flickers to look as Bruce leaned against the pillar, a defensive lowered tilt to his head.

Instead of talk which he highly-suspected worked against both their favors, he handed Jason the peppermint brownies and surveyed the crowd for eavesdroppers, sipping his champagne.

Jason squinched at the brownies, "I thought Alfred said we wasn't supposed to touch these…" Even as Jason cradled them tighter, freckled and boyishly big ears cocked. His situational awareness had been high, refinement and differentiation were being cultivated.

Fast learner. Driven. No issue succeeding in whatever he put his mind to. It had done him well and Bruce hoped it'd continue in that vein.

"He'll understand. There's only so much pickled pork jowl a child can eat," Bruce said. Jason's face disgustedly squished at the thought, and Bruce hummed behind another sip, keeping an eye out as Jason began to pick at the brownies. His lack of appetite was worrisome, usually his adoptive son never had issue eating whatever was laid before him.

Bruce didn't know how to fix this.

"Jason," he tried.

His head lifted, chocolate crumb by his mouth and baby teals ready to soak in whatever Bruce said. This permanent vulnerability that Dick never had. Bruce didn't know how to strengthen Jason, except through Robin, in all conviction he believed that it could protect the fairer parts of Jason's heart.

He lightly smiled, "How about a late-night stroll, in about –" Bruce checked his platinum encrusted watch, " – twenty minutes. Enough time for you to finish your brownies and a diversion to take hold."

His adoptive son slowly beamed, toothy grin delighted, "You're on," Jason nodded. Already biting into the brownies with renewed enthusiasm, a little jiggle in his shoulders in happiness or jubilation.

If it was as simple as spending more time with his adopted son, Bruce could happily provide.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you like this little fic, reading through it I know I could've done more so, maybe I'll see...  
> anyway, THANK YOU FOR READING! :D


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